


Part 5: I Have To Pee

by Fedora Of Adorableness (TheTimelessChild0)



Series: Restrooms Are For The Wicked [5]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Annoyed Neal Caffrey, Awkwardness, Crack, Episode: s04e02 Most Wanted, Episode: s04e03 Diminishing Returns, Episode: s04e08 Ancient History, Friendship, Protective Peter Burke, Urination, season 4
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:53:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26141407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTimelessChild0/pseuds/Fedora%20Of%20Adorableness
Summary: Self-explanatory. As is Neal, for various reasons.
Series: Restrooms Are For The Wicked [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1874236
Kudos: 6
Collections: WC²





	1. Singing Like A Canary

Neal settled into his seat, instantly leaning back to put less pressure on his _punctured_ thigh. It was still pulsing blood, attempting to heal the dent in the skin, as it had done for the majority of the day, every second he’d been able to stand still or lean on things. 

The pain zinged, almost burning around the right leg, towards his glutes. 

He looked out of the window, admiring the sunset. He hoped he’d get some sleep on the longer plane ride all the way home to New York. Neal had yet to decide his feelings about his return. It had been quite a few weeks on the island, of “freedom”. New York was his home... but would it look or _feel_ like the New York he had left behind? What about Sara? The other Agents at White Collar? Would he be welcomed with open arms? 

He remembered why he was hesitant to leave with the treasure prior to his commutation. His friends, his penthouse, the _Italian roast_. The Spanish had not been comparable, that much had been made crystal clear. 

Neal smiled. And this time...the smile was genuine.

* * *

The twinge in his leg had moved upward, and was no longer caused by the gunshot wound. Nor was it as intense. Caffrey shifted in his leather seat. 

“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath. Peter looked up, his utmost concern activated.

“I have to pee,” Neal remarked, stretching out his injured leg, pushing himself off the chair, looking around. 

MacLeish smirked in anticipation, but the expression was immediately wiped off by Collins smacking his knee with his gun.

  
“Need some help?” Burke offered. 

“No, just directions,” the con man waved him off, one hand still on the armrest. He was pointed towards the back, to a door so nondescript, you’d think it’d be against some building code.

Neal hobbled forward, one hand on his right leg, to lift it up as high as possible, every few hops. He eventually lost his balance, catching himself on the back of another seat. 

Peter came to the rescue. “That’s enough, grab hold of my shoulder,” he instructed, pulling on Neal’s right arm.

“Thanks,” Neal sighed.

The rest of the way went more smoothly, with Neal not needing to support himself, or put down his right leg even once.

“When we land, we gotta find you a _cane_ ,” Peter noted, holding the door open and patting Neal on the shoulder.

“That’d be good,” Caffrey agreed, thrusting himself into the bathroom, and closing the door himself. 

It was mildly unnatural for him to pee with a leg _up_ , like a flamingo. But he managed nonetheless.

“Good thing I took off your cuffs, huh Caffrey?” Collins smiled at him as he exited. 

“If I had a bottle, it would make no difference,” he pointed out with a shrug. “Hey MacLeish, you didn’t pack Esmeralda with you? Or Isabella, either of the longer ones will do...I’d hate to wake up Peter unless I _absolutely_ have to,” Neal grinned. Rob got up, but was immediately kicked in the shin...by Collins’ gun. The weapon’s owner glared at him. 

“SIT. DOWN, MacLeish!” he hissed.

Peter began humming the boat song. Neal joined in, _loudly_. The only pained wails in the cabin were MacLeish’s, as the melody was repeated until they touched down in the Canary Islands.

* * *

Caffrey was cuffed to Collins with one hand, the other wrapped around Peter, as they stepped off the plane. The moon shined brightly, but clouds covered it, adding an ambience of safety to the evening. 

  
_Funny, I thought I’d be in cuffs and put on a plane_ _leaving_ _the Canary Islands,_ he mused.


	2. Yellow Submarine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You've heard of the brown note...this is _slightly_ more convenient...but just as embarrassing.

It started out as a normal day at White Collar. Since Neal had not been back that long yet, his typical humming had yet to fill the 21st floor. The silence was getting to Diana, so she pulled out her speaker. 

“Any requests, Maestro?” she checked. 

  
“Beatles were great back in the day; still are,” Caffrey remarked. 

Berrigan found a playlist and hit shuffle. 

The song that came on first, only played for about five seconds before the con man mouthed _oh no_ , and ran from the room.

“Caffrey!” Diana barked after him. He could’ve said that he hated the song...

* * * * *

“Where’s Neal?” Peter asked, spotting the empty desk. He’d come up to share more information on Cook, but his consultant was nowhere to be found. 

“No idea. He just stormed out of here,” Diana shrugged. 

“What did you do?” he assumed there was something; that she’d _scared_ _him off_ , somehow.

“ _Nothing_ _!_ I just played some Beatles songs, and he got all _obla-di-obla-da_ ,” Berrigan huffed. 

Neal returned, looking from side to side, hoping few people noticed. Unfortunately, the _few_ who did included Agent Burke. 

“Mind telling me where you went, Abagnale?” Peter grumbled, patiently.

“The bathroom. Only place with soundproofing,” Neal stated, raising his eyebrows in disdain.

It was a clever story, and not _technically_ a lie. Both parts of the statement were true; he’d looked it up before out of curiosity. 

An added benefit was the fact that Yellow Submarine was roughly 2 minutes long, which accounted for the reason he _actually_ went in there.

The CI sat down, shaking his head in discomfort. 

“You do know there’s a way to shuffle and still select the first song, right?” he muttered to Berrigan.

“How was I supposed to know you hate Yellow Submarine?” Diana pointed out.

“Does anyone _like_ it? It’s a travesty. It should be a mortal sin to put that in the album,” Neal huffed, feigning offence.

* * *

They were halfway to June’s house at the end of the day, when Peter decided to turn on the radio. 

Neal’s eyes widened at the first few notes of the song. 

_No...it couldn’t be..._

It was a remix, so it went straight to the chorus.

His need for the restroom, which had subtly nudged him mere minutes ago, _spiked_ , making him feel as if he would start peeing that same second. 

“I have to pee, pull over,” he told Peter frantically. He didn’t have time to bother being embarrassed about randomly announcing that.

Peter noted the out-of-the-blue nature of the statement, and the environment outside the car.

“Pull over _where_ exactly?” Burke questioned. 

Neal was presently hunched over, squeezing his knees together.

“I don’t care, just pull over Peter, please!” Caffrey begged. 

Peter swerved towards an alley, looking concerned at his friend. Neal jumped out and darted towards his rest and reprieve. 

Peter was still pondering the unexpected circumstances, as the song continued. It was a catchy tune, so he began humming. Then he remembered. 

_Yellow Submarine_. It was the same song Diana played earlier that day. It occurred to him that this was likely the true reason why Neal had sprinted to the restroom earlier.

To his consultant’s credit, the room _was_ relatively soundproof, but Burke doubted it had crossed his mind until the moment he needed an excuse...

* * * * * * * * * 

Neal rolled his eyes at the puddle on the concrete. The radio station had the worst timing in the world. 

“Well, that’s two more charges on my rap sheet; public urination, and indecent exposure,” he muttered. 

He didn’t get in the car right away, sending a quick text to Peter.

_\- Is the song over?_

Burke typed back an affirmative. Upon approaching the car, Neal noticed the window was open. 

  
“How does it feel to stick it to _the_ _man_?” Peter joked.

“Shut up,” Caffrey groaned. “Do you have any..” he started to ask. 

“Hand sanitiser? Yes!” Peter poured some on Neal’s open palm. 

“Thanks, and thank you, for stopping,” he replied gratefully. 

When they were both seated comfortably, Peter introduced his curiosity. 

“So..hearing the song ‘Yellow Submarine’ makes you have to _go_...explain,” he requested, firmly.

Neal put a hand on his face, turning red. 

“When I moved to St Louis, I was only three years old. I still hadn’t been potty trained, so naturally, Ellen helped with that. And every time I sat on the _potty_ , we would sing _Yellow Submarine_ together,” Caffrey explained.

“Every time you went _pee-pee_ ,” Peter understood, smiling warmly. 

“Yes, _thank you_ , Sesame Street,” Neal quipped, nodding.

“But, how does it still...” Burke frowned. 

“Work? I don’t know, Peter,” he shrugged. 

“I guess it follows with simple biology. You were getting programmed into a schedule of going nr 1 and nr 2 at fixed times, whenever Ellen took you to the bathroom. Your bladder was taught to release on cue. Then, when the schedule shrivelled away once you started _school_ , the system stayed behind, like a _fail-safe_ , sort of,” Peter theorised.

“Huh. That actually makes some sense. Can’t exactly say it won’t ever be _useful_...considering,” Neal raised an eyebrow in acknowledgement.

“What happened just now?” Burke guessed with a smirk. Before Caffrey could correct him, he added, “Don’t think, after working with you for so long, I can’t tell the difference between you being bored and you needing to go the bathroom,”

Neal smiled awkwardly. “That’s why you turned on the radio,” he realised.

“Hey, it did its job, one way or another,” Peter granted.

“I’d have preferred another,” Neal remarked. 

“So would the state of New York,” the Suit scoffed, looking sideways at Neal and patting him on the shoulder. 

The radio was turned on again, cautiously, to classical music.

* * *

**One Day Later...**

Peter and Ellen were walking in the park, to get to know each other a bit more. The agent’s mind flew back to yesterday’s car ride with Neal. 

“Do you remember the song _Yellow Submarine_ by the Beatles?” he asked her casually.

“Oh, that’s a classic,” she smiled nostalgically.

“Apparently, you used to sing it to Neal, is that true?” Peter asked, already knowing the answer was yes. His friend had never lied to him, and never would.

Ellen chuckled, bemused. “Yeah, when he was _really_ little...I can’t imagine what made him bring _that_ up,” she laughed.

“I might’ve coerced him,” Burke admitted. 

She looked at him, puzzled. 

“Neal had a very _interesting_ reaction to the song being played,” he smiled humorously, hinting. 

Ellen blinked in recognition. She stopped in her tracks.

“Sorry, are you telling me that song still _works_?!” she asked, incredulous. A smile formed on her face.

“Like a charm!” Peter laughed, nodded. Ellen laughed with him.

“ _Oh_ _my god_...” she sighed, dumbstruck.

“You didn’t know?” he asked, realising her oblivion.

“No,” Parker negated with a chuckle. “He never told _me_ ,”

“Well, teenagers aren’t exactly known for being talkative. And Caffrey probably didn’t have his silver tongue yet,” Peter gathered.

“What makes you think it revealed itself to him then?” she queried.

“If it happened in elementary school, whether he had an accident because of it or not; the _teacher_ would’ve told you,” Burke pointed out. 

“That still doesn’t explain why the hell that brilliant brain of his didn’t just up and forget, like I assumed he _would_ ,” said Ellen.

“Well, Caffrey hasn’t exactly made the greatest case _against_ its function,” Peter remarked.

“Oh, really?” she registered her intrigue. He noted that she was not surprised at _that_ claim.

As it turned out, Neal had been awkward in that area for a long time. Hence why the _response_ reappeared the first time he heard the song again in his youth. 

**\-- ** -- ** -- ** --** ****** **\--** ****** **\--** ****** **\--** ****** **\--** ****** **\--** ****** **\--** ****** **\--** ****** **\--** ****** **\--** ****** **\--** ****** **\--** ****** **\--**

Ellen had invited Neal over for a cup of tea. She decided to delight him with some music, from a very _peculiar_ record.

“Remember this one?” she held up the LP, with Yellow Submarine listed on the cover.

“Can’t say I do. We played a lot of Beatles. Which for the 80s was really saying something,” he chuckled. 

“Should I pop it in?” Ellen suggested cheerfully, baiting him. He did not protest. So she casually stepped over to the record player and tilted the disc forward. 

“Alright; _stop_ ,” Neal surrendered. She pulled it back, grinning. 

“Peter told you,” he presumed. 

“Only because you didn’t,” she countered.

“I was _17_ ; you were miles away from the campsite, I wasn’t gonna call you about that, after successfully sneaking off from all my friends, for _once_ ,” Neal explained.

Ellen nodded, understanding. Agent Burke had been right.

“Yes, Peter told me off your _unchanged_ aspects,” she remarked.

He scoffed in resignation. “This is why I kept you two apart. So you wouldn’t exchange _notes_ ,” he rolled his eyes, embarrassed.

“Hey, you’re the reason we exchanged _numbers_ ,” Ellen reminded him. 

Neal grabbed his coat and waved his fist, as if about to make a comeback. 

“I love you, Ellen,” was the phrase he settled on, pronouncing it quietly.

“Love you too, Neal,” she waved goodbye. 

He was the same sweet man she’d sent out into the world all those years ago, though where that attitude came from, she had _no idea_. 

Maybe she would ask Peter. _He_ would know.


	3. Past And Present Peeing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He hadn't thought she wouldn't find out. There was just a small hope that she hadn't already...

All they needed was a glass of wine and it was like no time had passed. Fitting, considering wine was the first drink they had together.

Neal sipped it cautiously. If Mozzie was anything to go by, it was dangerous to savour the beverage, especially if you hold your faculties and _suaveness_ in any esteem at all.

“Come on, you’re inhaling it,” Alex mocked. “So, it’s not a _Bordeaux_ , doesn’t mean it’s poisonous,”

“It’s still early,” he justified, taking a generous sip, and sloshing it around. 

“And your name is still Neal,” she murmured into her own glass.

* * *

They were a couple of glasses down, and the neck of the bottle was singing along with the wind.

“That treasure you wanted so badly has been a lot more trouble than it’s worth,” Neal admitted, rubbing his left leg in remembrance. At the same time, his phone vibrated, so he turned it off. The job could wait. Her trust needed to be regained first.

“You and King Midas. Whiners,” she quipped. “Ooh, I need more _wine_ ,” Alex turned around to refill. 

Caffrey rubbed both legs. “And I’ve had _too much_ wine,” he remarked, putting down his glass.

“Hey, bathroom’s upstairs, go ahead,” Hunter smiled back at him. 

“Thank you. I will be _right_ back,” Neal excused himself politely and awkwardly.

* * * * *

“Seriously?” he groused, finding both Peter _and_ Mozzie in the room.

“Look, it’s a long story, but look what we found!” Moz waved the manila envelope excitedly.

“We think it contains the details of Alex’s next assignment from her employer,” Peter explained.

“Okay, can we look at this later? _Now_ is not really a good time,” Neal remarked, casting a glance to the side, irritated.

“It won’t take long,” Burke assured him.

The envelope contained no hint as to the employer’s identity. But they did manage to get a piece of DNA from the sticky flap on it.

Peter was about to tell Mozzie to hide it again, but Caffrey interrupted.

“Hold on, let me just take a few photos, maybe I can narrow down our search,” he suggested, taking out his phone and turning it on. 

“Is your phone on silent? You didn’t respond to the picture of my gift to Peter,” Mozzie mentioned.

“I know, I turned it off,” Neal replied, snapping the pics.

“Wait; you didn’t see _my_ message?” Peter frowned.

“No,” he stated, plainly. “Look, can you just please, exit through whichever door you came in? Alex is bound to get suspicious soon,”

“Go ahead and run back to her, we’ll see ourselves out,” Burke prompted.

“Right, see that’s not an option,” Neal objected, putting his hands in his pockets. 

“Why not?” the Suit was confused. 

He rolled his eyes. “Why would I go up here, if I didn’t see your text?” 

Neal bent his knees impatiently. “I have to _pee_ ,” he explained.

“ _Of course_...we’ll give you some privacy,” Peter apologized, nudging Mozzie along.

He darted to the toilet the moment they were gone and wasted no time pulling himself out, and aiming. 

Neal had barely begun turning wine back into _water_ , when he heard footsteps. 

“How are you _still_ peeing?” Alex remarked, incredulous.

“I know, I’m usually a lot more shy,” he quipped, closing his eyes in relief.

“Not around me,” she reminded him. “If you need to go nr 2, text me so I can clear my schedule,” 

Neal blew a raspberry at her. 

* * *

Despite the principal delay, Caffrey returned swiftly after their impromptu restroom conversation. 

“Weren’t you feeling _gassy_?” she joked, handing him another glass of wine. “Careful, it’s got bubbles,” 

“Hilarious,” he drawled, adjusting his stance to a lean. 

As Alex started sipping her wine, her gaze fell onto her date’s slacks. They were spotless.

She sighed exasperatedly. “Where are they?” 

Neal frowned in confusion. “Who?” He asked innocently.

“Cut the crap, Caffrey. Your friends are here. Or... at the very least they were,” Hunter amended, looking at the empty living room.

“I have no clue _what_ you’re talking about,” 

“Your pants are dry,” she pointed out. 

“Like they’re _supposed_ to be,” Neal laughed casually.

Alex smiled the way she did when she was angry with him. 

“I’ve known you for a long time, Neal. The first time we met, you told me that you didn’t like the feeling of paper towels in public restrooms so you’d always just wipe your hands dry on your pants. This would sometimes leave a spot that made it look like you pissed yourself. I _obviously_ know the difference, but Peter doesn’t. You weren’t worried about what I’d see; you were worried about _him_ ,”

“You can see how _dark_ these are, right?” he denied.

“Yeah; just like I can see whether you’re picking your handcuffs or not,” Alex told him. “How many glasses did Adler force on you, exactly?” 

His cheeks burned in embarrassment. 

“I lost count...I’ll see myself out,” 

Caffrey turned and left, putting his hat on prematurely.

* * * * *

“Well, that’s my cover thoroughly blown...” he complained at the pair outside the hotel. “Oh, and she knows about the dry dock,”

“Well, at least you know she ain’t a snitch,” Peter noted.

“Right, because _that_ was the whole point,” Neal snarked, gently bopping him on the shoulder. 

“What happened in the dry dock?” Mozzie inquired curiously.

“I may have wet myself, which may not have been entirely accidental,” he admitted, shrugging with his right shoulder.

“For the record, I would like to make it clear I wouldn’t have told anyone either, nor am I going to,” Moz swore. 

“I know,” Neal patted his bald head. 

“Wait, how did she catch us, we left so quietly?” Peter questioned.

“It doesn’t matter...suffice to say it’s not entirely your fault,” Caffrey relented. “You check out the DNA, I check the pictures; meet you back at the office,” he instructed walking away. 

Burke stretched his head, eyes falling on his consultant’s bottom half. 

  
“What?” 

“I just...all of a sudden it looks off,” the agent remarked. 

Neal smirked with his mouth open in astonishment.

“I know, they’re dry,” he noted helpfully. 

“Yes..that’s it. Wait a minute,” it was Peter’s turn to smirk.

“Don’t even _think_ about going there...I usually wipe off my hands after washing them, instead of using paper towels,” Neal clarified.

“But not this time?” Burke wondered. 

  
“I was afraid you would see it and _jump to conclusions_ ,” he raised an eyebrow, pointedly.

“That’s how she spotted you,” Peter realised. 

“Yep. First person to hear about my aversion,” Caffrey muttered. 

“Hey, you got a great excuse to use if my assumption ever rings _true_ ,” the Suit mentioned.

Neal got wide eyes in horror. “Okay, we’re done with this conversation,” he said firmly as he _properly_ left.

He turned the corner, adjusted his belt and shook his head. 

_Not. gonna happen._


End file.
